accompanied Varley to the hospital, waited for him till his examination
of the "casual" was concluded, and met him outside.

"Can it be done?" he asked of Varley. "I'll take word to Father
Bourassa."

"It can be done--it will be done," answered Varley absently. "I do not
understand the man. He has been in a different sphere of life. He tried
to hide it, but the speech--occasionally! I wonder."

"You wonder if he's worth saving?"

Varley shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "No, that's not what I
meant."

Finden smiled to himself. "Is it a difficult case?" he asked.

"Critical and delicate; but it has been my specialty."

"One of the local doctors couldn't do it, I suppose?"

"They would be foolish to try."

"And you are going away at sunrise to-morrow?"

"Who told you that?" Varley's voice was abrupt, impatient.

"I heard you say so-everybody knows it. . . . That's a bad man
yonder, Varley." He jerked his thumb towards the hospital. "A terrible
bad man, he's been. A gentleman once, and fell down--fell down hard.